


Traumatizing the Boys

by ScarletDeva



Series: DracoHermione drabble pile [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Ridiculous, but not really, drabble pile, harry ron torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletDeva/pseuds/ScarletDeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Draco. In the library. And in the hospital wing. Because Harry and Ron need a few shocks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione looked up from organizing the old, patched parchments, a small, secret smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Draco continued sorting his pile, his face blank. She shifted her chair closer to his, her smile growing just a bit, her tawny eyes glimmering with a rare, impish expression. He let out a sigh and set another torn parchment aside. She cast a quick glance around and slid her hand under the table, poking his side with a single finger. His jaw flexed but he said nothing, his eyes cast down onto the tabletop piled with scrolls and tomes and the like. She edged a little closer and tugged the side of his soft silvery grey shirt. He sighed again, this time putting a sort of long suffering tone into it, and slowly looked over.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked with a bored expression. She shrugged. He quirked a single eyebrow, something she envied but could never copy, and returned to his sorting, laying a thick tome aside and topping it with two rickety looking scrolls. She renewed her fading smile, amusement shining in her eyes, and prodded his foot with her own.

"If you scuff my Italian leather shoe, we are going to have words," he spoke calmly, not even looking up. Her lower lip stuck out slightly in a faint pout, something she never used to do but found remarkably amusing these days. He made a face but still did not look over. She huffed in annoyance and quickly passed her eyes over the library to make sure it was empty and then got out of her seat, stepping behind his chair to wrap her arms around his shoulders. She couldn't see his face but she had a sneaking suspicion that he was smiling. Her hands slipped down his chest and stomach, feeling his muscles tensing under her touch, and then she grinned and attacked his ribs, tickling him mercilessly.

The Slytherin prince shrieked in an entirely undignified manner, compounding it by almost tumbling from his chair, and lunged to his feet, spinning around to retaliate, his fingers reaching for the back of her neck with a sure touch. She squealed and hopped back, laughing, her hair flying up with the jerky movement. As their eyes met, he returned her affectionate grin but that didn't stop him from moving one hand to her stomach. Giggling, another new occurrence, she pounced him, her fingers roaming his sides in a way she knew would drive him nuts and caught him off-guard. In an effort to squirm away, he fell back, tripping over the leg of his own chair, and thudded to the floor, bringing her with him. Their limbs entangled as she gleefully continued to tickle him and his eyes beamed amusement and feigned annoyance up at her.

Neither heard the footsteps approaching them.

"HERMIONE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" came a familiar, indignant voice.

She looked up for a second, regarding Harry seriously then lowered her eyes down to meet Draco's. "I don't know. What am I doing?" she drawled thoughtfully.

"Hermione?" Ron wailed in disbelief, his face matching his sweater, a Mrs. Weasley Christmas original.

"I suppose I'm doing this," she kissed Draco’s forehead, "or this," his chin, "or this," cheek, "or even this," and she bent down again and engaged his mouth in a heated kiss, her half-lidded eyes smiling as his arms wrapped around her, complimenting the fervent touch of his lips.

THUNK. THUNK.

She pulled away just a bit and eyed Harry and Ron lying on the ground in a dead faint. "Oops."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione walked into the Hospital Wing, Draco reluctantly trailing behind her, anchored by their interlaced fingers.

"Must we attend to this?" he asked in a whisper.

She rolled her eyes and made her way to the windows where Ron and Harry occupied sterile white beds, blank expressions settled on their pale faces, Ron's freckles and Harry's scar both made all the more vivid by contrast.

"Must we?" he echoed again, a bit more loudly.

She gave a long suffering sigh, a sound much practiced for every scrape her silly Gryffindor boys got into, which now found its use for all the silly things her Slytherin boy said. With a whispered charm, she levitated a cushy chair over and nudged him into it, promptly making a home of his lap.

"Well?" he said, his voice wavering on a slight whine even as his arms went around her.

She cuddled into his embrace like a kitten and nodded. "Yes Malfoy we must." Her chilled nose nuzzled his cheek which was far warmer than its pallid demeanor would hint at and he shivered slightly but made no move to pull away.

"Why must we?" he asked, his tone smoky dark and suggestive, as if offering the possibilities of things they could have been doing instead. She pulled back a little, her dark, liquid honey eyes searching his ever changing orbs of grey. Then she ducked her head, her teeth catching on his earlobe lightly, the tip of her tongue flicking against the captive flesh. He shuddered.

"We must," she whispered in his ear as her fingers dug firmly into the tensed muscles of his shoulder, "because I was mean to poor Ron and Harry. I do owe them an explanation."

"It's just Potty and Weasel," he said with no conviction, his lids lowering as he rolled his shoulder in response to her more than welcome touch.

"Malfoy," she uttered, the name a culmination of affection, frustration and warning and he nodded a bit. A smile touched her lips and ran all the way into her eyes, making them glow in the sparse candlelight. She rubbed her nose lightly just under his ear and whispered another word as a promise, "Later."

He grinned and pulled her closer against him, tighter into his arms, an easy possession that she allowed as she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

 

Harry Potter's head was throbbing. In fact it felt like a thousand Hippogriffs had trampled over it in a haste to... well, do whatever it is Hippogriffs do. He made a half hearted mental note to ask Hermione just what it was that might be. Lifting a hand that was still boyishly slim but growing into its strength, he rubbed his forehead, blinking repeatedly as he tried to get his bearings.

"Ron," he called and received a grunt in response. Tilting his head, he found the redhead on the opposite bed and repeated himself, a touch louder this time. Ron did not seem too pleased as he peeked open his eyes and grumbled something unintelligible. "I had the worst dream," Harry continued doggedly. Ron muttered something that Harry took for interest. "You were there and Hermione was there and she was kissing Draco Malfoy." As he spoke his eyes wavered over the room and hit on the very sight that made a lie of his supposition. Hermione curled up in Malfoy's arms. "Oh. So it wasn't a dream then." Ron looked over.

THUNK. THUNK.

Hermione jerked from her sleep to find Ron and Harry lying pronely on the pale stone of the floor completely and utterly unconscious. Again. "Oops."


End file.
